Page 11 of Waiting for Friday Night

Halle glanced at Tracey. She’d pulled out her cell phone and was frowning at the screen.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

Tracey put her phone back on the table facedown. “Bernard is acting weird.”

Bernard and Tracey had been married for years. She’d known Bernard in high school. He’d been quiet, smart and the complete opposite of Tracey, who was always loud, brash and ready to defend herself against anyone who dared insult her or her family. When the two got together after Bernard moved home after college, Halle had been surprised but happy for her friend. They’d always seemed happy, if not still the odd couple with Bernard’s quiet reserve and Tracey’s take-life-by-the-horns attitude.

“Weird how?” she asked.

“I think he wants a divorce.” Tracey spoke the words bluntly with no hint of emotion. Yet, her fingers toyed with the end of one of her braids. Halle’s heart rate picked up. When Tracey didn’t show emotion that usually meant she was swimming in them.

“Why would you say that?” Imani asked.

Tracey lifted a shoulder. “He’s been talking a lot about how we got married young. That neither of us really got the chance to go out and explore. And that we’ve wasted years.” Tracey spoke quickly, as if the words weren’t that big of a deal.

Which made Halle’s concern grow. Tracey was good at playing off things that bothered her, but after years of friendship Halle saw through it. She glanced at Imani and the worry in her friend’s eyes meant Imani felt the same.

“He really said all that?” Halle asked, trying, and failing, to picture sweet and solemn Bernard saying he wanted to go out and explore.

Tracey nodded. “He did. That, and today he said I was boring.” Her eyes flashed and she slapped her chest. “Me? Boring?”

Imani shook her head. “You’re the least boring person I’ve ever known. You’re always fun.”

“I’m hot-tempered,” Tracey said. “That doesn’t make me fun.”

Halle wrapped an arm around Tracey’s shoulders and squeezed. “You are fun. Don’t listen to him. Bernard’s probably going through some midlife crisis and speaking dumb. He’ll snap out of it.”

Tracey gave her a half smile before shrugging. “Maybe so. I just needed to get out of the house. He walked out after saying that, and I didn’t want to just sit at home like a boring wife waiting on him to decide to come back. Thanks for hanging with me.”

“That’s what we’re here for,” Halle said. “Don’t worry, if Bernard keeps acting up then we’ll come over there and get him straight.”

Imani nodded. “Yep. Just say the word and we’ve got you.”

Finally a true smile creased Tracey’s lips. “I appreciate that. We’ll see. We’ve gone through stuff before so this time may not be different.” Tracey sighed and pushed her braids back. “I don’t want to spend the entire night talking about Bernard being dumb. Let’s talk about something more fun.”

Halle quirked a brow. “Like what?”

“Like your date with Gregory on Friday, or the happenings at the hospital, anything other than my husband trying to call me boring.”

“I’m good with that,” Halle said. She hated hearing the doubt in her friend’s voice. Tracey put on a brave front, but Halle and Imani both knew how easily she could be hurt. She sent up a quick prayer for Bernard to come back to his senses.

Cyril brought over their drinks and the three women clinked their glasses together in a toast before Imani went into a story about the latest update on the dating life from her friend Andrea in Texas. Halle glanced over to the bar when Quinton got up to leave. Their eyes met and a jolt made her suck in a breath. She was only irritated with him; that was all. She looked away quickly and asked her friends for advice on the best way to impress Gregory on their upcoming date.

Five

Quinton entered the Peachtree Cove Elementary School gym and scanned the room. A dozen round tables with six chairs were scattered around the space. Other teachers, administrators and support staff from within the district milled about the room, searching for a place to sit. He typically received district information from the high school principal, but since there were going to be some district-wide changes, the superintendent had insisted all teachers attend one of two information sessions.

He didn’t mind attending district-wide training, but hated that this one happened right when he was in the heat of getting ready for the football season. He, Zachariah, and the other coaches agreed to split up attendance between the two meetings so that football practice wouldn’t have to be canceled. Even missing one day of practice was crucial while they tried to get the team ready for the season.

Deciding that he wasn’t eager enough to sit in the row of tables closest to the podium or disengaged enough to be one of the teachers filling up the back row of tables, he opted for a table near the middle. He peeled off the sticker name tag that he’d scribbled his name on and slapped it on his chest before heading toward his chosen section. He nodded and greeted some of the other teachers from the high school. He recognized many of the other people filling the space but there were also a lot of new faces.

Teachers rotated in and out of the district. Some coming to give back in a small town, or because they were more likely to have received college scholarships if they opted to work in a small district after graduation. After four years in the district, Quinton had to admit that Peachtree Cove felt like home. If he continued to have a successful season, he could see himself settling in Peachtree Cove for good.

“Hey, there he is!”

Quinton looked up from where he’d settled in his seat. No one looked his way, so they weren’t talking about him. The two women sitting at the next table pointed toward the door. Teachers at the middle school. He’d seen them at previous district-wide trainings. Curious about who’d made them so excited, he glanced in the direction they indicated. The guy standing in the doorway didn’t ring a bell. He must be a new teacher to the district. Which explained the excitement. Heaven help the guy if he was single. The single teachers would be all over him if he were. Quinton knew from experience.

“He is cute,” one of the women, Rachel he believed her name was, said.

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